


Exposure

by RandomTVJunk



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Masturbation, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of castration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomTVJunk/pseuds/RandomTVJunk
Summary: After Ramsay's victory at Moat Cailin, he exposes himself to Reek in more ways than one.





	Exposure

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my tumblr stories. As I have no idea how long this will now stay there or if I'm even staying there I have decided to move it here.

“I’m proud of you, Reek.”

Reek flushed at the compliment, skin pink as Ramsay ruffled at his frayed hair, removed his gloves.

No one had ever been proud of him. His stomach clenched, waiting for a kick, literal or figurative. 

“No one was ever proud of Theon Greyjoy. No one ever wanted Theon Greyjoy.”

Ramsay spat the name out as if it were a curse.

 _Maybe it is_ , Reek thought to himself.

Reek was relieved that the twitch of anger on his face escaped Ramsay’s notice, his master’s attention paid to removing Reek’s breastplate. 

Reek knew he was right. Even Theon knew he was right, whether he’d admit it or not.

“Such dull armor,” Ramsay tut-tutted, as he began to unfasten the laces of Reek’s trousers. “At least it emphasizes your best feature,” he grinned as he lowered them.

Reek clenched his teeth at the cool, stagnant air against his bare legs and back, only slightly warmed when Ramsay grabbed them in his large hands and squeezed his buttocks before pulling him forward.

“I want to design you a new suit of armor,” he whispered in Reek’s ear, nipping at his ear until it drew a few drops of blood, drops he quickly collected on his finger. “Red,” he continued, gently placing the digit in Reek’s mouth to suckle, “and black. Imagine how beautiful you would be.”

When Reek’s mouth was free, he nodded and spoke. “As beautiful as you, m'lord.”

Ramsay sneered, and Reek took a step back, realizing he’d angered him, once again.

“I’m sorrysosorrysosorry…I only meant…”

Ramsay’s hand raised, balled into a fist. Reek braced for the worst when grasped his neck, pulling him close.

“You meant to praise me,” Ramsay said, half of wonder, his touch now tender, but still possessive.

“I thought you meant to mock me. Sneer at me. As they all have. Even Father…no not Father, not now, never again, but the others…as they all have.”

Reek shook his head, quickly, desperately.

“No, m'lord. Never. You truly are beautiful." 

How much of this was true, Reek dare not ponder. 

Of his own volition, Reek lifted his master’s open shirt, eyes wide as he took in the fresh scars on his master’s broad chest.

For a moment, Ramsay seemed as lost as he was, vulnerable to the soft touch of Reek’s trembling fingers.

"What do you wish, Reek? For me to expose myself to you as you are to me?”

Reek knew he could not say yes, must not say yes, no matter how much he craved a glimpse of equality, no matter how much he wanted to taste and touch the beautiful body before him in a way which was not drowned in cruelty. They were never to be equals. Ramsay was his creator. His beginning, and likely, his end.

“No, m'lord. I…I want to see…I want to see what I never was. What I shall never be. You are so beautiful…the most beautiful man I have ever known…”

Reek screwed his eyes shut, temple flaring as he remembered Theon, and Theon remembered Robb.

_Robb never wanted you…Robb is gone…_

When he opened them again, preparing to beg forgiveness, he saw that Ramsay was in the process of removing his breeches.

“I will not allow you the pleasure of removing them for me,” Ramsay said, flatly. “This is your pleasure.”

His thick, turgid penis slapped against his flat stomach. Ramsay gathered the pre-come and licked his fingers again.

“Do I have a nice cock, Reek?”

Reek nodded, in expectation and in truth. 

“Yes, m'lord.”

Ramsay smirked.

“I like to think so. Not quite as nice as Theon’s, I must say, but…nobody’s perfect.”

Reek twitched again, feeling the ache where hi…where Theon’s penis had been. He knew he was supposed to react with anger, to fail the test, but would not allow himself to do so.

Ramsay shrugged, and began stroking himself with one hand, steady, controlled strokes, thumb circling the glans, middle finger bumping against the same underside vein Reek had felt throbbing against his tongue. He ran his other hand along his pectorals, scratching and teasing at his nipples, making them as hard as the girth in his grasp.

“What about my arse? I’m afraid that’s also not quite as nice as yours.”

He turned his back to Reek, fully and completely. Reek could have killed him in a million ways if he so wished, but never contemplated even one.

He hungered at the sight before him; the broad, muscular, smooth shoulders, the round, pale, perfect buttocks, gleaming in the dim candlelight, the strong thighs he’d grasped and dug his nails into as Ramsay had filled him whole.

Ramsay truly was a beautiful man. Reek knew. Even Theon knew.

Theon had desired men, and as much as he’d tried to ignore these longings, no matter how many whores he paid or fair maidens he fucked, they had never gone away.

Reek could not ignore his lusts even if he tried. They were not wrong, or weak. They were as to be expected. Ramsay was his god. Ramsay had done more for Reek than any god ever had or ever would.

“You are dangerous to me, Reek,” Ramsay said, voice rough with lust and what Reek almost took as fear, as alien as that would have been. “If you tell anyone of what I have done, what I am about to do…words do not suffice.”

Reek began to stammer an apology, stopping himself only at the sight of Ramsay slowly spreading his cheeks, exposing his deepest vulnerabilities, his darkest delights, to his slave.

Reek whimpered at the sight of the tight hole before him. He tried not to imagine what his…what Theon’s cock would have felt like nestled inside. 

Ramsay let out a groan, a broken groan of the gutters, as he began to place his middle finger, slick with saliva and come, around the snug ring between his quivering cheeks.

As Ramsay feasted on one finger, then two, slowly filling himself, Reek was transfixed. Every quiet whimper enthralled him, made him want more, dread more.

He remembered how those fingers had felt in him, sometimes brutal, sometimes gentle and loving. He wanted to taste them, to breathe them into himself. but he knew he couldn’t. He dared not move a muscle, take a breath, or even imagine his tongue or fingers in that sweet space, even if these sensations were what he had been born to make his master feel.

Ramsay turned around once more, hands busy pumping both sides of his body, a body glowing from the sheen of sweat and sex and something else, something Reek did not know.

His master’s eyes were filled with tears, and he stared at Reek with what felt like need and hatred.

“Look at me, Reek,” Ramsay snapped, words half-audible through gritted teeth, mouth half-open, legs spread apart, the cold, harsh room alive with the slapping sounds of flesh on flesh. “See what you cursed me to become.”

There were no groans now, only a still silence, a release, a breaking, as he stared at Reek, keeping eye contact through every tremor, through every fresh volley coating his legs and chest, milky and slippery to the touch, much like the man himself.

Reek had still not moved, still not reacted without order or command, but he lusted, he wanted. He imagined another day, another exploration, another vulnerability.

Ramsay seemed reluctant to look him in the eye now, as he sat in a cold bath, almost as if to punish himself.

“Scrub me, Reek,” he commanded, voice dead, cold.

As Reek began his duties, Ramsay grabbed his wrist, the washcloth dropped into the water.

“If I’m not careful, I will lose myself in you,” he said, half-pleading, half-delirious, eyes ablaze with reactions and emotions more varied than a simple servant like Reek could contemplate. “I know I will.”

Reek swallowed, waiting for Ramsay to release his grip before he grabbed the cloth. 

“I am yours, however you wish,” Reek replied, the fingers of his good hand brushing against Ramsay’s knee as it left the tub. 

A small part of him was pleased, a small part terrified, at the way Ramsay leaned into that touch. 

“I am yours always.”


End file.
